UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA.  SAN  DIEGO 


1822  01560  9415 


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THE  (jEADUATE'S  EETURN: 


AN 


ORATION 


BEFORE 


THE   ALUMNI   OF   HARVARD   UNIVERSITY, 


AT    THEIR 


TRIENNIAL   FESTIVAL, 


JULY   19,   1860. 


BY 


SAMUEL    O^GOODj/^/^-/^!'^, 

MINISTER   OF   THE   CHURCH   OF   THE   MESSIAH,   KEW   YORK   CITY. 


CAMBRIDGE: 
SEVER  AND  FRANCIS, 

BOOKSELLERS   TO  THE   UKIVERSITY. 

18  60. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Consress,  in  the  year  1860,  by 

SEVER     AND     FRANCIS, 

iu  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  District  of  Massachusetts. 


University  Press,  Cambridfre : 
Printed  by  Welch,  Bigelow,  and  Company. 


ORATION. 


Mk.  President,  and  Brethren  op  the  Alumni  :  — 

The  swift  years  have  brought  us  once  more  to  this 
cherished  festival  of  letters  and  good-fellowship,  and 
the  new  auspices  under  which  we  meet  to-day,  in- 
stead of  eclipsing,  ought  rather  to  brighten  the  in- 
terest of  our  reunion.  We  have  been  invited  to  take 
part  in  the  inauguration  of  our  brother,  the  President 
elect,  and  with  cordial  respect  complying,  we  yet 
keep  our  own  established  usages,  hold  our  own  time 
and  ground,  and  speak  our  own  free  word  alike  of 
greeting  and  declaration.  It  would  be  easier,  and 
in  some  respects,  undoubtedly,  more  agreeable,  for  me 
simply  to  express  your  good  wishes  and  take  my  seat. 
But  I  cannot  with  propriety  disregard  your  customs 
and  express  instructions,  and  substitute  ceremonial 
congratulation  for  regular  discourse.  The  presence 
of  so  many  superiors,  instead  of  depressing  a  speaker, 
ought  rather  to  cheer  and  encourage  him  by  thoughts 
of  the  old  times  when  we  stood  on  this  platform  by 
command  of  the  fathers,  and  by  bringing  him  nearer 
you  as  brothers.  As  a  brother  —  one  of  the  rank 
and  file,  not  above  you  but  among  you  —  I  would 


stand  here  to-day,  and  speak  a  word  that  may  be  as 
much  yours  as  mine.  It  is,  I  believe,  a  rule  that  is 
held  good  both  by  man  and  woman,  that  he  who 
loves  much  has  a  right  to  say  something.  In  the 
love  of  Old  Harvard,  as  one  among  the  many  the 
sunshine  of  whose  life  has  come  from  our  Alma 
Mater's  smile,  let  me  take  the  subject  from  the  occa- 
sion, and  speak  of  "  The  Graduate's  Return  from  the 
World  to  the  University."  To-day  we  return  to  the 
University,  where  in  youth  we  studied  together,  from 
the  world,  where  in  manhood  we  have  been  working 
together.  Here,  then,  our  manhood  stands  face  to 
face  with  our  youth,  and  the  encounter  will  be  not 
sad,  but  cheering,  if  we  can  maintain  our  doctrine 
that  as  men  we  are  bound,  not  to  lose,  but  to  realize 
whatever  was  best  in  the  spirit,  objects,  and  fellow- 
ships of  our  youth.  Upon  this  simple  thread  of 
association,  let  our  thoughts  run  their  own  easiest 
way. 

I.  Here  in  our  youth  we  studied  together.  Dwell 
a  moment  upon  the  spirit  of  those  early  days.  It 
seems  now  but  yesterday  that  we  lived  within  these 
College  walls.  We  were  youths  then,  —  not  boys, 
not  men  ;  not  boys,  with  passions  dormant,  with  set 
tasks  for  the  patient  memory,  and  with  wills  in  lead- 
ing-strings under  the  parental  roof;  not  men,  either, 
under  the  burden  and  heat  of  the  day,  full  of  care  for 
bread  or  name.  We  were  youths,  emancipated  from 
boyhood  and  on  the  way  to  manhood,  with  fresh 
blood  coursing  through  our  veins,  and  with  a  sense 
of  new  freedom,  at  once  impatient  of  restraint  and 


earnest  for  progress.  How  could  we  fail,  then,  of  a 
certain  enthusiasm,  that  must  show  itself  in  our  tone 
of  life,  and  make  us  in  fact  what  we  were  in  name,  — 
young  students '? 

Students  !     Mark   that  word.     Not  mere   school- 
boys learning  lessons   by  heart,  —  not  professional 
adepts,   using    the   fruits   of  previous    study,   or,   if 
studying,  doing  so  with  an  eye  to  professional  work, 
—  but  students;  and,  as  the  term  implies,  carrying 
the   freshness    of   curiosity  into    our   pursuits,    and 
bent  upon  some  kind  of  knowledge.     If  any  of  us 
were  a  little  dull  in  the  recitation-room,  and  more 
earnest  for  the  laboratory  or  the  garden  than  for  the 
regular  text-books,  we  were   generally  studious  in 
some  way,  —  in  some  way,  if  not  the  best,  seekers  for 
light  to  open  new  paths  to  young  and  eager  eyes. 
Every  old  hall  and  tree  recalls  the  enthusiasm  of 
those  days,  and  we  see  ourselves  restored  in  these 
youths,  who  have  the  freshness  of  the  morning  on 
their  cheek,  and  the  light  of  new  studies  in  their 
eye.     Here  flows  the  wonderful  fountain  of  life,  that 
has  always  seemed  the  same,  though  always  chang- 
ing, like  the  old  Helicon,  whose  waters  ever  held  the 
same  hue  and  sparkle,  although  constantly  passing 
away.     As  we  look  upon  this  fountain   of  Youth, 
fresh  and  new  as  in  the  old  times  two  centuries  ago, 
we  find  ourselves  claiming  it  as  our  own,  and  are 
half  ready  to  quarrel  with  these  young  students  for 
taking  our  goods  and  stealing  our  lost  youth.     But 
let  them  have  it.     It  is   theirs  now,  as  it  was  ours 
once ;  and  when  they  are  as  old  as  we  are,  they  may 


find  that  there  is  something  far  better  that  should 
come  with  time,  and  that  true  experience  ripens,  in- 
stead of  blighting,  the  blossom  of  early  enthusiasm. 

The  dull  world  may  deny  this,  and  try  to  set  up 
an  impassable  barrier  betw^eeii  youth  and  manhood, 
in  the  name  of  its  pet  word,  experience,  as  if  the  prosy 
sound  must  needs  put  all  young  enthusiasm  to  flight. 
We  accej)t  the  word,  but  not  in  any  disheartening 
sense,  not  allowing  for  a  moment  that  wisdom  im- 
plies the  death  of  any  generous  feeling.  True,  in- 
deed, there  is  a  time  wdien  we  are  tempted  to  lose 
our  ideal  in  the  actual,  and  perhaps  think  that  a 
dull  worldliness  is  the  necessary  cost  of  experience, 
—  ready  to  say  with  Schiller,  — 

"  The  chains  of  fancy  all  are  rent 
And  all  her  fair  creations  flown ; 
The  pleasing  faith  has  passed  away 
In  beings  which  my  visions  bore ; 
Reality  has  made  its  prey 
Of  what  seemed  beautiful  before." 

With  experience,  indeed,  many  illusions  must  pass 
away,  and  in  two  chief  ways  time  is  likely  to  chill 
something  of  our  early  fervor.  The  passage  from 
fancy  to  fact  puts  the  stern  limit  of  reality  before 
our  young  dreams,  and  as  in  youth  we  dream  of  a 
hundred  careers,  and  in  manhood,  according  to  the 
cruel  laws  of  time  and  space,  we  must  be  content  to 
have  but  one  career,  we  must  expect  empires  of  air- 
castles  to  dissolve  into  mist  the  moment  we  ex- 
change dreaming  for  waking,  and  build  upon  the 
solid  ground.     In  the  next  place,  the  passage  from 


the  contemplative  to  the  active,  or  from  the  cognitive 
to  the  conative  state  of  mind,  startles  us  from  our 
quiet  studies  and  fair  visions  by  revealing  the  law  of 
labor,  that  is  quite  as  inexorable  as  the  limit  of  time 
and  space.  We  see  that  we  must  not  only  change  our 
post  but  our  posture^  not  only  our  material  but  our 
mood,  and  upon  actual  things  do  actual  work.  So 
be  it,  and  what  then  1  Accept  the  limit  of  necessity, 
and  submit  to  the  law  of  labor.  But  why  abate  one 
jot  of  heart  or  hope,  as  the  field  is  before  us  and  the 
battle  is  to  be  won  %  Because  we  are  face  to  face 
with  fact,  are  we  not  to  open  our  eyes  wider,  instead 
of  shutting  them,  and  to  put  forth  our  hands  more 
bravely,  instead  of  folding  them  in  dainty  indolence  % 
Certainly,  limitation  should  deepen  enthusiasm  in- 
stead of  killing  it,  and  the  moment  the  game  starts 
up  in  our  path,  we  need  more  eye  and  more  courage 
than  while  we  were  curiously  watching  the  clouds 
chase  each  other  across  the  sky.  Labor  also  ought  to 
quicken  enthusiasm,  alike  by  bringing  our  thoughts 
to  a  practical  point,  such  as  favors  insight  as  well  as 
oversight,  and  by  adding  the  force  of  manly  will  to 
the  ardor  of  youthful  susceptibility.  Under  both 
points  of  view,  we  maintain  that  true  enthusiasm 
should  deepen  with  experience,  and  if  actual  affairs 
at  first  may  chill  the  untried  student,  he  will  find 
his  courage  rising,  instead  of  falling,  as  he  takes  a 
real  interest  in  them,  and  so  rises  from  the  actual  to 
the  real,  or  from  the  show  to  the  substance.  Limita- 
tion, instead  of  contracting,  should  concentrate  his 
thoughts;    and  labor,  instead  of  hardening,  should 

2 


8 

strengthen  his  purpose.  Thus  he  comes  to  a  real 
enthusiasm  instead  of  one  mainly  ideal,  or  to  a  fervor 
more  the  fruit  of  the  earnest  purpose  and  the  effec- 
tive will,  than  of  the  roving  fancy  or  the  curious 
intellect.  The  fancy  and  the  intellect  catch  some- 
thing of  the  new  zest  of  reality  indeed,  and  the  eye 
bent  on  real  good  may  have  a  quicker  sight  for 
beauty  and  a  deeper  insight  into  truth.  Thus  the 
true  student,  when  become  a  master  of  his  working 
art,  is  a  student  still,  and  as  first  studies  lose  their 
freshness,  higher  studies  under  the  imperial  word  of 
positive  duties  open  their  more  celestial  gates,  and 
bring  the  childlike  seeker  near  the  inmost  shrine. 

But  why  speak  only  of  the  power  of  the  working 
will  upon  the  taste  and  intellect?  Why  not  urge 
its  worth  as  a  fountain  of  original  inspiration  and 
strength'?  Why  not  clearly  say,  what  all  sound 
philosophy  and  history  assure  us,  that  the  student 
must  become  a  worker  in  order  to  have  his  full  ani- 
mation, and  that  the  active  will,  quite  as  much  as 
the  inquisitive  intellect,  can  be  inwardly  moved,  and 
faithful  service  adds  heroic  fire  to  quiet  study  ]  With 
all  that  is  claimed  for  the  strength  of  youthful  spirit, 
it  is  certainly  the  frequent  trouble  with  our  early 
purposes,  that  they  are  more  visionary  than  eff'ective, 
more  aspiring  than  inspired,  and  that  in  our  early 
plans,  as  in  our  scribblings  in  verse,  we  are  apt  to 
make  the  fatal  mistake  of  confounding  aspiration  and 
inspiration,  and  so  mocking  daring  aims  with  lame 
achievements.  In  our  relations  to  nature,  mankind, 
and  to  God,  it  is  the  hardest  of  all  things  to  rise  from 


susceptibility  to  energy,  and  to  do  our  part,  instead  of 
expecting  everything  to  be  done  for  us.  A  weakness, 
even  of  physical  tone,  is  no  uncommon  trait  of  stu- 
dent life,  and  the  mind  languishes  in  want  of  the 
natural  help  from  the  body,  even  the  moral  and 
religious  faculties  catching  the  feebleness  of  the 
nerves  and  muscles.  Hence,  the  need  of  giving  to 
college  recreations,  as  well  as  studies,  more  of  the 
tonic  force  of  active  life,  and  preparing  our  youth  to 
be  brave  in  the  great  battle  to  come,  by  the  sports 
that  stir  courage  as  well  as  develop  strength.  Pro- 
fessor Erdmann  of  Halle  has  some  excellent  observa- 
tions on  this  point  in  his  recent  spirited  lectures  on 
University  education,  and  he  strenuously  maintains 
the  superiority  of  the  chivalrous  sports  that  invigo- 
rate the  spirits,  over  the  gymnastic  exercises  that  only 
swell  the  muscles,  commending  the  arts  that  give 
youth  mastery  over  the  elements  and  over  brutes, 
and,  if  need  be,  over  rude  men,  and  declaring  a  riding- 
school  as  important  as  a  library  to  students,  and  that 
it  should  be  as  cheap  and  accessible.  Certainly, 
academic  education  is,  of  itself,  very  deficient  in  the 
training  of  active  power,  and  the  constructive  will 
must  put  forth  its  force  before  the  true  enthusiasm, 
the  real  animation,  and  even  the  constructive  im- 
agination, can  be  known.  The  earnest  worker,  and 
he  alone,  can  know  that  a  determined  purpose  may 
be  as  creative  and  spontaneous  as  the  susceptible 
fancy,  or  the  inquisitive  intellect,  and  the  brave  right 
hand  may  write  out  in  solid  deeds  as  stirring  lyrics 
as  any  that  are  breathed  in  song.     Now  surely  in 


10 

manhood  the  active  will  comes  to  its  best  conscious- 
ness, and  may  find  itself  most  vitally  moved,  alike 
from  human  sympathy,  professional  discipline,  and 
divine  influence.  Manhood  is  therefore  the  time  for 
a  ripe  and  real  enthusiasm  that  unites  active  strength 
with  intellectual  sensibility,  brings  out  the  real  man 
in  his  energy  as  well  as  his  susceptibility,  and  makes 
the  wise  head  and  the  ready  hand  work  together, 
whilst  the  generous  heart  stands  loyally  between  the 
two,  and  with  cheerful  pulses,  like  a  musical  band, 
beats  brave  marches  for  their  journeying  and  peace- 
ful requiems  for  their  rest. 

In  this  spirit  we  face  our  youth  to-day,  and  bathe 
anew  in  its  morning  freshness,  stoutly  refusing,  how- 
ever, to  ask  the  shadow  to  turn  back  on  the  dial,  or 
to  bewail  the  flight  of  years  as  the  death  of  generous 
feeling.  If  we  have  been  true  to  our  early  days,  we 
carry  their  blessing  and  power  forward  with  us  as 
we  go,  as  the  calm  full  stream  bears  the  mountain 
spring  with  it  in  its  large  and  beneficent  tide,  and 
in  waters  that  still  sparkle  takes  goodly  fleets  upon 
its  bosom,  and  nurtures  sweet  blooms  and  rich  fruits 
upon  its  banks.  Thus  surely  a  true  man  maintains 
and  deepens  the  enthusiasm  of  youth,  if  less  ardent, 
more  fervent  than  of  old,  and  if  less  ready  to  take 
fire,  more  able  to  carry  fire  than  when  in  his  teens. 
So  it  is  that  all  loyal  service,  instead  of  forgetting 
freedom,  does  but  fix  and  perpetuate  it,  as  free  in 
duty  as  of  old  free  in  enjoyment  or  curiosity,  with 
a  liberty  that  is  a  power  instead  of  a  mere  idea,  an 
eff'ective  force   instead  of   an   exacting   desire,  and 


11 

escaping  the  world's  dull  drudgery  not  by  droning 
imbecility,  but  by  brave  fidelity.  So  tlie  true  man 
finds  himself  as  the  years  pass,  ever  returning  to 
what  was  best  in  his  youth,  and  singing  with  new 
heart  the  old  lays  of  faith  and  fellowship.  Such  has 
been  the  way  with  all  real  humanity  in  the  career  of 
the  great  historical  races  that  have  marched  west- 
ward to  build  up  the  city  of  God  on  earth.  As 
these  races  have  advanced  in  their  course  of  con- 
structive conquest,  their  heroic  will  has  ever  re- 
afiirmed  the  faith  that  led  them  from  the  cradle  of 
Oriental  quietude.  The  countrymen  of  Paul,  Chry- 
sostom,  Ambrose,  Charlemagne,  Alfred,  Luther,  Wash- 
ington, as  they  have  done  brave  deeds,  have  said 
more  deeply  the  old  hymns  and  prayers  of  Hebrew 
bards  and  prophets.  Not  only  with  trembling  harps 
and  pealing  organs,  but  with  ringing  anvils,  cleaving 
ploughshares,  whirling  spindles,  rustling  presses, 
speeding  ships,  cheering  bugles,  and  hurrying  emi- 
grant trains,  they  are  chanting  the  old  Te  Deums 
and  Glorias,  in  deeds  as  well  as  in  words,  that  circle 
the  globe,  and  make  the  outgoings  of  the  morning 
and  evening  to  meet  and  rejoice  together.  In  this 
spirit  we  return  to  our  morning  land,  and  ask  that 
experience  may  ripen  into  manly  fidelity  the  impul- 
sive enthusiasm  of  our  youth,  instead  of  sinking  it 
into  dreamy  worldliness,  or  evaporating  it  in  airy 
caprice,  and  when  it  is  time  for  our  day  to  sink  into 
the  Western  shadows,  our  sun  may  hang  out  with 
richer  trophies  upon  his  evening  pavilion  the  same 
crimson  banner  which  he  unfurled  as  he  began  his 


12 

morning  march,  and  the  vesper  hymn  may  deepen 
the  thanksgiving  and  not  dash  the  joy  or  the  hope 
that  spoke  in  the  morning  prayer.  Such  a  faith 
binds  our  days  together  by  "  natural  piety,"  and  man- 
hood transforms  the  spirit  of  youth  into  the  practical 
realism  that  is  earnest  to  take  all  good  gifts  to  itself, 
and  to  make  them  into  true  uses,  so  joining  the 
receptive  and  the  active  powers  together,  as  to  pro- 
mote the  student  into  the  worker,  the  disciple  of 
knowledge  into  the  Master  of  Arts. 

II.  Returning  thus  to  the  spirit  of  our  youth,  we 
are  in  a  position  to  see  it  in  action  and  consider 
its  leading  object.  Coming  hither  from  the  world 
where  we  have  been  and  are  working  together,  we 
see  more  clearly,  that  the  peculiarity  of  our  College 
life  was  in  the  fact  that  we  studied  together.  Those 
two  words,  study  and  ivork,  tell  the  story  of  the 
objects  of  our  youth  and  manhood,  as  the  words  en- 
thusiasm and  experience  tell  the  story  of  spirit  of  the 
two  seasons.  Of  course,  to  study  is  to  work,  and  to 
work  with  any  sort  of  sense  or  spirit  is,  more  or  less, 
to  study.  But  the  difference  between  the  working 
student  and  the  studious  worker  is  this,  that  the 
student  works  in  order  to  study,  and  the  worker 
studies  in  order  to  work ;  with  the  former  study 
being  the  object  of  work,  and  with  the  latter  work 
being  the  object  of  study.  So  important  is  this  dis- 
tinction, that  it  cannot  wisely  be  set  aside  by  trying 
to  make  the  young  student  a  professional  worker,  or 
to  make  the  professional  worker  merely  a  student. 
The  collegian  who  is  obliged  to  stop  in  his  studies,  to 


13 

attend  to  professional  practice,  or  the  professional 
man  who  has  no  practice  to  give  point  to  his  studies, 
is  in  a  poor  path  of  improvement.  The  true  method 
is,  to  give  youth  mainly  to  study,  and  then  in  man- 
hood leave  it  not  merely  to  intellectual  tastes,  but  to 
positive  professional  duties,  to  give  the  motive  for 
study,  that  before  was  found  under  the  discipline  of 
teachers.  The  student  is  in  danger  of  becoming  a 
mere  smatterer,  if  he  has  not  most  of  his  time  for  his 
books,  and  the  graduate  without  the  positive  de- 
mands of  a  profession  upon  his  time  and  thoughts,  is 
apt  to  be  little  more  than  a  dainty  amateur,  or  a 
feeble  dilettante.  He  can  study  best  in  youth  who  is 
free  to  prepare  to  work  well  in  manhood,  and  he  can 
work  best  in  manhood  who  is  called  to  apply  well 
the  studies  of  his  youth.  He  who  studies  in  order 
to  find  truth,  continues,  instead  of  breaking  off  his 
career,  when  he  works  truth  into  practice,  and  study 
thus  bears  fruit  in  work,  realizing  itself,  not  nullify- 
ing itself  in  action. 

To-day  we  confront  our  years  of  study,  and  there 
is  something  not  wholly  cheering  in  the  remembrance 
of  our  student  life,  when  we  were  so  free  to  seek 
after  truth  amid  such  boundless  stores  of  learning, 
with  teachers  so  many,  so  able,  and  so  faithful.  But 
if  we  grieve  at  all  that  those  years  are  gone,  it  should 
be,  not  because  we  would  always  be  students,  or 
return  to  these  halls,  but  because  we  did  not  use 
our  time  here  well,  and  are  haunted  by  ghosts  of 
old  follies,  perhaps  vices,  as  we  walk  through  these 
familiar  groves.     Consider  well  the  life  of  study  led 


14 

by  us  here,  and  must  we  not  say  that  its  best  treas- 
ures have  been  returning  to  us  in  the  path  of  active 
fidelity,  and  all  true  work  has  revived  the  objects  of 
our  study  1 

"Without  attempting  any  ambitious  classification, 
we  may,  in  harmony  with  the  best  thinkers  of  our 
time,  make  a  very  simple  and  obvious  division  of  the 
studies  in  a  University  course,  that  will  suffice  to 
show  their  bearing  on  the  work  of  our  manhood. 
If  even  that  half  Pagan,  Auguste  Comte,  allows  him- 
self to  speak  of  the  hierarchy  of  the  sciences,  we 
may,  without  suspicion  of  cant  or  affectation,  com- 
pare the  range  of  our  studies  to  a  vast  temple  some- 
what like  that  which  Egypt  planned  and  Judaea 
completed  ;  a  temple  with  three  leading  enclosures, 
and  presided  over  by  orders  of  priests.  Two  chief 
priests  meet  us  at  the  gate  of  learning,  and  never 
leave  us  at  the  inmost  shrine.  These  are  Mathe- 
matics and  Language,  the  two  studies  that  are  the 
conditions  of  all  others,  marked  from  all  others  by 
being  not  so  much  treasures  of  knowledge  as  keys  of 
the  whole  treasury,  —  not  so  much  separate  sciences 
as  methods  of  all  science,  —  not  so  much  specimens 
of  reasoning,  as  masters  of  reason  itself;  in  fact,  vir- 
tually teachers  of  Logic,  doing  more  for  the  disci- 
pline of  thought  than  the  technical  manuals  of  the 
logical  art.  The  one.  Mathematics,  is  severe  and 
passionless,  — -  pure  intellect,  without  demanding  the 
least  throb  of  emotion  or  any  graces  of  style ;  the 
other  is  the  organ  of  human  feeling  and  will,  in  fact 
the  expressed  life  of  man,  and  is  as  much  suited  to 


15 

the  study  of  humanity  as  Mathematics  is  suited  to 
the  study  of  nature.  The  two  meet  us  at  the  gate 
of  the  temple,  and  go  with  us  through  every  sphere, 
up  to  the  highest  or  inmost  shrine,  where  the  stu- 
dent seeks  the  mercy-seat  of  Him  whose  arithmetic 
and  geometry  are  written  out  in  the  eternal  heavens, 
and  whose  language  is  the  Eternal  Word.  Thus 
guided  and  taught  to  number  and  measure,  and  name 
and  define,  we  entered  the  outer  court  of  the  temple, 
the  realm  of  Physics  or  Cosmology,  and  there  studied 
nature  or  the  visible  universe  in  the  elements  and 
forces  of  its  masses  and  molecules,  winning  some 
knowledge  of  Natural  Philosophy  and  Chemistry, 
and  regretting  that  we  explored  so  little  that  other 
portion  of  this  court  now  so  richly  illustrated  here 
to  students,  the  department  of  Organic  Physics,  or 
Physiology,  with  its  preparations  from  the  fields  of 
Natural  History.  Then  we  drew  near  the  second 
apartment  of  the  temple,  the  sanctuary,  and  there 
the  study  of  man  opened  upon  us  in  various  ways, 
not  only  in  what  is  technically  called  Psychology 
or  Mental  Philosophy,  but  in  all  that  illustrates  hu- 
manity, whether  in  history,  biography,  ethics,  or  in 
the  masterpieces  of  the  representative  personages  of 
our  race.  We  probably  learned  more  of  man  in  this 
latter  way  than  in  any  other,  and  we  can  never  be 
sufficiently  grateful  to  our  mother  University  for 
acquainting  us  so  fully  with  the  actual  thoughts  of 
the  great  leaders  of  the  human  race  in  their  original 
tongues,  and  so  opening  to  us  the  mind,  character, 
and  speech  of  the  great  historical  races  that  have 

3 


16 

made  our  humanity  what  it  is.  Their  very  names 
are  enough  to  make  the  pulse  beat  quicker,  as  they 
assure  us  that  we  have  had  direct  personal  acquaint- 
ance with  the  providential  masters  of  human  thought 
under  their  two  great  leaders,  —  Homer,  the  father 
of  old  classics,  and  Dante,  the  father  of  our  modern 
literature,  the  first  in  time  and  perhaps  first  in  genius 
of  the  illustrious  line  of  authors  who  have  written  in 
the  language  of  modern  nations  instead  of  the  lan- 
guage of  the  schools. 

One  step  more  was  to  be  taken,  one  curtain  more 
was  to  be  lifted :  for  he  surelv  is  a  novice,  and  not 
a  master,  who  has  not  gone  beyond  the  study  of 
nature  and  of  man,  to  some  knowledge  of  Him  who 
is  Lord  of  Nature  and  Father  of  Men.  Theology  is 
the  inmost  shrine  of  the  temple,  to  which  Physics  is 
the  outer  court  and  Psychology  is  the  sanctuary. 
We  have  learned  something  of  Theology,  and,  not 
speaking  now  of  express  theological  education,  have 
we  not  all  cause  to  be  grateful  that  so  much  wisdom 
and  zeal  were  devoted  to  giving  us  distinct  ideas  of 
the  being  and  attributes  of  God,  and  of  the  eternal 
aims  of  human  life  \  If  Paley  or  Grotius  did  not 
do  for  our  faith  all  that  we  asked,  the  chapel  pulpit 
came  nearer  the  mark,  and  its  faithful  ministry  was 
to  some  of  us  a  greater  help  than  any  other  depart- 
ment of  the  University,  —  leaving  impressions  that 
come  back  to  us  with  every  good  purpose  and  ear- 
nest prayer.  We  were  crude  youths  then,  not  with- 
out some  share  of  folly ;  but  who  of  us  had  not  some 
sense  of  the  perfections  of  God,  the  dignity  of  duty, 


17 

and  the  reality  of  divine  influence  1  Heaven's  bless- 
ing upon  our  Alma  Mater  for  thus  consecrating  learn- 
ing by  piety  ;  and  let  her  sons  manfully  say  now  and 
always,  that  Theology  is  first  of  sciences,  and  Ke- 
ligion  is  the  first  of  arts.  Let  them  manfully  say, 
that  when  a  petulant  sectarianism,  or  a  self-indulgent 
secularism,  shall  succeed  in  driving  Theology  and 
E-eligion  from  these  halls,  the  name  of  John  Harvard 
should  be  erased  from  the  Charter,  and  the  founda- 
tions of  these  old  walls  should  be  upturned.  It  is 
Theology  that  created  this  University,  and  in  fact 
established  in  the  world  the  very  idea  of  a- Univer- 
sity, —  that  institution  at  once  comprehensive  and 
organic,  combining  all  sciences  under  one  sovereign 
wisdom.  Other  sciences  give  multiplicity,  but  only 
Theology  gives  unity,  and  makes  the  many  into  one. 
This  only  can  interpret  the  range  and  unity  of  the 
whole  temple,  as  Bacon  has  so  nobly  observed  in  his 
immortal  Essay  on  the  Advancement  of  Learning,  a 
copy  of  which  Harvard  gave  with  his  other  books  to 
this  library  :  "  But  to  those  which  refer  all  things  to 
the  glory  of  God,  they  [the  three  views  of  the  uni- 
verse presented  by  him]  are  as  the  three  acclama- 
tions, '  Sancte,  Sancte,  Sancte ' ;  holy  in  the  descrip- 
tion and  dilatation  of  his  works,  holy  in  the  connection 
and  concatenation  of  them,  and  holy  in  the  union  of 
them  in  a  perpetual  and  uniform  law." 

Such  was  the  temple  of  learning  that  we  fre- 
quented here  in  years  gone  by,  and  surely  more  than 
once  we  heard  the  according  voices  of  the  hierar- 
chies of  science  as  they  joined  in  worship  of  Him 


18 

the  only  true,  and  study  sometimes  kindled  into 
adoration.  Where  is  that  temple  now,  or  what  is 
our  familiarity  with  its  courts  ?  Have  the  inexorable 
years  that  drove  us  from  these  halls  of  learning, 
driven  us  from  that  shrine,  and  left  us  to  drudge  for 
bread  in  this  working-day  world  1  It  surely  is  not 
wise  to  deny  that  there  are  some  points  of  painful 
contrast  between  the  former  life  of  study  and  the 
present  life  of  work ;  not  wise  to  deny  that,  as  early 
enthusiasm  is  apt  to  die  out  in  dull  worldliness,  so 
early  study  is  apt  to  give  way  to  mere  business,  and 
neglect  the  light  of  first  principles  for  the  empiricism 
of  the  passing  day.  Too  many  of  us  renounce  learn- 
ing for  timeserving  expediency,  and  not  a  few  who 
were  quick  at  mastering  the  contents  of  books  for 
the  recitation-room,  are  utter  drones  at  reading  men 
and  things,  to  make  living  report  of  them  in  timely 
thoughts  and  apt  deeds.  For  this  frequent  falling 
off  from  college  promise,  there  is  ample  occasion,  if 
not  ample  reason,  since  in  study  and  in  work  not 
only  do  the  materials  differ,  but  also  the  implements 
and  powers,  —  not  only  the  matter,  but  the  manner; 
the  materials  in  the  one  case  being  choice  books,  and 
in  the  other  case  the  world  as  it  is,  with  its  stubborn 
men  and  things,  —  the  powers  in  the  one  case  being 
mainly  the  receptive  taste  and  intellect,  and  in  the 
other  case  the  practical  judgment  and  the  aggressive 
will.  But  is  there  any  essential  antagonism,  there- 
fore, between  study  and  work "?  Nay,  does  not  true 
work  upon  actual  matter  in  actual  manner  complete 
the  student's  education,  and  enable  him  to  work  into 


19 

reality  the  truth  that  he  before  studied  out  in  idea'? 
Ought  not  practical  usefuhiess  to  give  point  to  the 
lessons  of  books,  and  the  active  judgment  and  will 
combine  with  the  taste  and  intellect  to  bring  out  the 
powers,  as  well  as  the  truth  of  things  ?  Truth  itself 
does  not  become  wholly  real,  nor  touch  and  interpret 
and  master  reality,  until  embodied  in  virtue;  and 
how  profoundly  Lord  Bacon  again  observes :  "  In 
general  and  in  sum,  certain  it  is  that  'Veritas'  and 
'  bonitas '  differ  but  as  the  seal  and  the  print ;  for 
truth  prints  goodness ;  and  they  be  the  clouds  of 
error  which  descends  in  the  storms  of  passions  and 
perturbations."  Let  the  earnest  scholar  accept  this 
idea,  and  he  will  find  that  his  working  years  are 
printing  more  clearly  the  truths  of  his  student  years, 
and  that,  as  he  goes  on  his  loyal  way,  he  is  ever  re- 
turning to  the  studies  of  his  youth,  occupying  as  a 
master  the  school  that  he  before  visited  as  a  pupil, 
ministering  as  a  priest  where  he  before  listened  as  a 
hearer  or  gazed  as  a  spectator. 

As  we  try  to  do  our  work  faithfully,  and  make  our 
own  mark  upon  men  and  things,  do  we  not  find  old 
truths  deepening  under  our  active  hand,  and -new 
substances  and  powers  presenting  themselves  to  be 
interpreted  by  first  principles  ]  We  work  indeed 
upon  stubborn  material,  but  resistance  develops  new 
powers  in  us  and  new  qualities  in  the  resisting  ob- 
ject, —  qualities  that  are  generally  more  vital  and 
dynamic  than  the  abstractions  which  we  learned  in 
books.  The  result  is,  that  as  we  have  become  active, 
the  actual  world,  instead  of  being  soulless,  reveals 


44 


20 

more  soul ;  and  instead  of  losing  our  ideas  in  reality, 
reality  shows  them  in  their  life  and  force.  Nature, 
man,  nay,  God  himself,  show  their  powers  to  us  as 
Stte  touch  them  with  active  hand  and  earnest  will, 
an&  •*jje  working  view  of  the  universe  is  surely  the 
power  %ew,  the  hidden  forces  of  nature,  the  interior 
faculties  of  man,  and  the  mysterious  influence  of  God 
revealing  themselves  only  to  the  active  worker. 

The  true  reality,  then,  is  both  ideal  and  actual,  not 
the  surrender  of  the  ideal  to  the  actual,  but  the  res- 
toration of  the  one  in  the  other;  and  as  truth  is 
carried  into  practice,  it  interprets  itself  not  only  into 
ideas,  but  into  powers.  The  true  worker,  then,  instead 
f  being  driven  from  the  temple  of  science,  finds 
limself  returning  to  it  with  fuller  prerogative,  and 
patient  obedience  wins  deepening  illumination,  as  was 
the  case  with  the  devotee  whom  Jeremy  Taylor  so 
eloquently  speaks  of,  who  left  a  sweet  vision  of  God 
to  meet  the  call  of  duty,  and  found  the  lost  vision 
brightening  as  the  lowly  duty  was  done.  The  true 
realism,  then,  is  at  once  ideal  and  actual,  one  reality 
with  its  polar  diversity.  As  Coleridge  suggests  in 
his  Friend,  are  not  such  men  as  Plato  and  Lord 
Bacon  different  poles  of  the  same  real  intellect,  the 
one  more  ideal,  the  other  more  practical,  but  both 
needed  to  exhibit  human  thought  and  scientific  truth 
in  its  completeness  1  If  this  is  so,  then,  in  our  per- 
sonal development,  we  may  hope  in  a  certain  way  to 
repeat  that  great  experience  of  the  ages,  and  com- 
plete our  own  Platonic  period  of  too  dreamy  idealism 
by  a  Baconian  period  of  solid  utility.     Then,  too,  we 


21 

may  hope  in  our  own  way  to  enjoy  something  of  the 
great  triumph  of  modern  enterprise  in  ascending  to 
first  truths  by  practical  industry,  in  finding  that  our 
science  is  clearer  as  our  art  is  more  perfect,  and  our 
intuitions  deepen  as  our  energies  rise.  How  em- 
phatically this  position  is  proved  by  the  effect  of 
active  life  upon  the  primal  studies.  Mathematics  and 
Language !  The  wonderful  science  of  Calculus  has 
sprung  up  in  the  practical  school  of  modern  art,  and 
with  the  effort  to  measure  the  heavens  and  weiah  the 
globes,  this  mighty  method  has  been  invented  by  the 
intellects  of  Newton  and  Leibnitz,  and  the  new  har- 
monies of  numbers  transcend  the  mystic  dreams  of 
Pythagoras.  The  business  of  the  world  is  constantly 
making  new  applications  of  mathematical  science, 
and  carrying  forward  its  principles.  The  engineer 
marches  in  front  of  the  armies  alike  of  war  and 
peace,  and  industry  and  enterprise  wait  upon  his 
word.  One  of  our  own  mathematicians  tells  by  cal- 
culation in  a  court  of  law  the  practical  value  and 
working  power  of  a  turbine  wheel,  and  shows  in  a 
brilliant  philosophic  paper,  that,  in  the  arrangements 
of  their  leaves  upon  the  stems,  the  trees  correspond- 
ing with  the  cycles  of  the  planets  thus  intone  celes- 
tial numbers  and  chant  the  music  of  the  spheres. 

Every  department  of  Physics  illustrates  the  power 
of  the  actual  manner  in  discovering  and  developing 
the  truth  of  things.  It  is  in  the  laboratory  or  work- 
shop that  the  hidden  properties  of  matter  are  made 
to  reveal  themselves,  and  the  mysterious  affinities  of 
the  atoms  with  the  latent  forces  of  light,  heat,  elec- 


22 

tricity,  and  magnetism  appear  at  the  chemist's  call. 
Nature  in  her  masses,  as  well  as  her  molecules, 
obeys  the  same  method,  and  the  earth  and  the  heav- 
ens need  to  be  studied  by  the  active  hand,  as  well 
as  the  open  eye. 

Language,  too,  develops  its  light  and  warmth 
under  the  electric  touch  of  action,  and  the  eloquence 
that  is  active  never  appears  in  the  still  air  of  schol- 
arly seclusion.  University  life  gives  the  scholar  a 
classic  vocabulary  and  a  polished  diction,  but  only 
the  life  university  can  make  him  an  orator.  As  he 
feels  the  spur  of  necessity,  and  answers  to  the  sym- 
pathy or  animosity  of  the  living  world,  he  finds  that 
he  can  speak  with  new  power  from  the  fulness  of 
his  old  treasures,  and  that  the  words  once  gathered 
with  such  toil  now  come  to  him  in  full  play,  as  the 
water  long  and  laboriously  collected  in  the  reservoirs 
gushes  and  sparkles  in  the  fountain.  If  it  is  too 
much  to  say,  with  a  recent  German  writer,  that  the 
art  of  thinking  is  the  art  of  speaking,  or  that  lan- 
guage is  thought,  it  is  undoubtedly  true  that  he  who 
is  master  of  language  is  in  a  fair  way  to  be  master  of 
thought,  and  needs  little  more  than  earnest  practice 
to  work  his  word  into  power,  and  make  it  burn  as 
well  as  shine,  by  its  fire  kindling  the  human  heart 
as  the  light  of  recluse  study  can  never  do.  In 
this  respect  Demosthenes  was  surely  right,  and  the 
secret  of  eloquence  is  not  in  mere  study,  but  in 
living  work.  It  is  action,  action,  action,  and  a  re- 
cent author,  Theremin,  confirming  the  great  Athe- 
nian's definition,  has  rightly  called  such  eloquence 


23 

the  virtue  of  the  lips.  This  virtue  has  power  to 
reveal  all  other  virtue ;  and  only  when  studied  thus, 
not  merely  by  the  spoken,  but  the  acted  word,  the 
human  heart  reveals  its  treasures,  and  humanity 
opens  its  hidden  deeps  to  the  potent  spell.  Every 
department  of  human  nature  illustrates  the  same 
principle,  and  we  know  man,  not  only  as  we  read  or 
think  about  him,  but  as  we  work  with  him  and  upon 
him. 

In  fact,  all  generous  and  fervent  occupation  recalls 
and  deepens  first  principles,  and  every  great  art,  like 
ISTewton's  Astronomy,  writes  or  thinks  out  its  "  Prin- 
cipia  "  more  clearly  in  the  school  of  action.  The  old 
myth  that  the  Muses  were  daughters  of  Mnemosyne, 
beautifully  embodies  this  truth.  As  the  daughters 
perfect  the  beautiful  arts  of  music,  poetry,  eloquence, 
and  the  like,  do  they  not,  in  their  ripening  intellect- 
ual beauty  and  deepening  eye,  renew  their  mother's 
image,  and  does  not  every  flash  of  their  inspiration 
give  out  the  calm,  blessed  light  of  the  ideal  and 
maternal  Memory,  holding  out  its  clear  guardian  ray 
upon  the  opening  pathway  of  their  buoyant  hopel 
Does  not  every  beautiful  art  carry  us  back  to  the 
primal  source  of  inspiration,  and  make  us  almost 
believe,  what  some  of  the  ancients  affirmed,  that  we 
j)re-existed  in  the  primeval  wisdom  that  made  all 
things,  and  all  loyal  service  restores  us  to  the  Eternal 
Mind  in  the  reason  that  is  the  remembrance  of  his 
light,  and  the  habit  that  is  the  channel  of  his  will  1 

But  why  spend  many  words  to  prove  that  work 
ought  to  be  the  realization  of  study,  and  that  he  who 

4 


24 

works  wisely  finds  his  ideas  bearing  fruit  in  deeds, 
and  so  returning  to  him  with  new  life  and  powers. 
Does  not  the  highest  truth  in  philosophy  and  relig- 
ion  fix  the  principle   that  the  highest  or  absolute 
reality  cannot  be  known  by  thought  or  study  alone, 
but  by  work  or  obedience]     The  active  hand  only 
can  bring  out   the  latent  heat  of  nature,  and  the 
earnest  will  only  finds  the  hidden  warmth  and  power 
of  God.     God  is  the   absolute  being,  the  eternally 
True  and  Good.     Who  shall  know  him  except  by 
serving  him,  —  serving  him  in  spirit  as  well  as  truth, 
in  deed  as  well  as  thought  1     In  this  view,  how  sug- 
gestive is  the  remark  of  Melancthon,  —  in  his  noted 
Loci  Communes,  that  had  so  much  to  do  with  guid- 
ing the   Lutheran  Reformation,  —  that  God's  Word 
or  Son  is  the  manifestation  of  his  thought,  whilst  his 
Spirit  is  the  manifestation  of  his  will ;  —  an  idea  that 
certainly  has  some  confirmation  from  Scripture  and 
its  great  scholastic  expounders.     To  know  the  reality 
of  God,  then,  we  must  know  him  as  W^ill  as  well  as 
Wisdom ;    as  W^ill,  which   is   his  proceeding  virtue, 
as  Wisdom  is  his  proceeding  intelligence ;   and  the 
ultimate  fact  of  Christianity  and  the  crowning  bless- 
ing of  the  Church,  the  gift  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  can 
be  known  only  by  the  human  will   in  working  har- 
mony with  the  Divine  will.     If  the  Word  is  opened 
mostly  to   the  devout  student,  the  Spirit  is  opened 
mostly  to  the  devout  worker,  and  he  only  is  the  true 
scholar  or  disciple  who  by  study  and  by  Avork  knows 
the  living  God  in  the  blessed  reality  of  his  Word 
and  Spirit.      He  finds,   that  as   consecrated   reason 


25 

enters  into  the  universal  or  Divine  reason,  so  conse- 
crated will  enters  into  the  universal  or  Divine  will, 
and  so,  by  study  and  by  work,  the  seeker  solves  the 
problem  of  sages,  and  knows  the  Infinite  and  Eter- 
nal God. 

Such  is  our  doctrine  of  manly  realism  in  reference 
to  the  great  object  of  life  ;  and,  in  this  view,  he  is 
the  only  realist,  the  truly  practical  man,  who  is  at 
once  a  student  and  a  worker,  uniting  ideas  with 
deeds.  Our  position  is  thus  maintained  as  to  the 
object  as  well  as  the  spirit  of  life,  that  manhood  is 
bound  to  realize  the  promise  of  youth. 

III.  We  confirm  the  same  solid  and  cheerful 
philosophy  by  considering  the  fellowships  of  our 
youth,  or  the  friendships  that  brought  genial  spirits 
together  for  common  objects,  and  so  favored  our 
pleasure  and  our  studies.  Here  in  youth  we  studied 
together,  and  this  last  word,  "  together,''  is  more 
important  than  any  in  the  sentence.  The  fact  is 
clear  that  our  influence  upon  each  other  was  the 
most  characteristic  trait  of  our  college  life,  and  in  our 
play,  as  well  as  study,  we  lived  and  moved  in  com- 
pany. On  the  Delta,  play  would  have  been  penance 
without  associates;  and  in  the  recitation-room,  the 
lessons  would  have  had  no  zest  without  the  presence 
of  classmates  as  well  as  teachers.  May  we  not  be- 
lieve that  the  sociality  of  our  youth  came  not  merely 
from  sympathetic  feeling,  but  also  from  a  half-con- 
scious conviction  of  the  truth,  which  has  grown  upon 
us  with  every  year's  observation  and  thought,  that 
individual  culture  is  poor  and  fragmentary  without 


26 

social  fellowship,  and  the  true  humanity  is,  therefore, 
not  egotistic,  but  fraternal,  —  not  individualized,  but 
associated  ]  We  need  not  go  far  into  metaphysics  to 
prove  that  each  individual  shares  in  the  whole  intel- 
lectual and  moral  capital  of  his  associates ;  for  the 
first  principles  of  our  social  nature  prove  the  fact. 
Every  citizen,  in  a  manner,  owns  the  whole  city,  and 
enjoys  its  treasures  of  wisdom  and  humanity.  The 
jolly  sailor  rates  himself  very  much  according  to  his 
ship ;  and,  if  she  carries  seventy-four  guns,  he  consid- 
ers himself  personally  as  a  seventy-four.  So,  in  our 
day,  each  of  us  was  as  big  as  the  whole  class,  and,  as 
seventy-two  was  our  number,  each  Freshman  of  us 
regarded  himself  as  a  seventy-two ;  nor  did  the  asso- 
ciate feeling  lessen  with  time.  We  certainly  had  a 
sense  of  greater  wholeness,  or  of  integrating  our  nar- 
row individualism,  by  our  personal  friendships  and 
college  associations.  From  chosen  friends  we  per- 
haps derived  our  best  private  incentives  as  well  as 
satisfactions,  whilst  in  the  ruling  public  opinion  we 
were  led  to  our  usual  methods  of  amusement  and 
discipline.  College  notions  of  honor  may  have  been 
very  imperfect,  yet  they  had  some  elements  of  true 
loyalty,  and  college  ideas  of  fellowship  may  have 
been  in  some  respects  lax,  but  they  never  wholly  lost 
sight  of  the  truth  that  no  man  should  live  for  him- 
self alone. 

The  composition  of  a  single  class  of  seventy  or 
eighty  was  itself  a  sufficient  study,  and  the  very 
names  of  our  classmates  recall  to  us  now  a  ransre  of 
character  that  makes  the  catalogue  almost  a  compend 


27 

of  universal  history.     Can  we  not  remember  in  our 
associates  types  of  mind  as  strongly  marked  as  the 
fathers  of  the  old  philosophies  1     Can  we  not  name 
our  Platonist,  so  ideal  and  so  impractical,  ready  to 
discourse  on  Beauty  with   Hippias,  or  on  Goodness 
with  Philebus,  and  quite  as  ready  to  lose  himself  in 
the   misty  idealities    of   the    Parraenides,   or  wreck 
himself  upon  quicksands  in  the  specious  communism 
of  the  Republic "?     What  class  had  not  its  keen  and 
utilitarian  Aristotle,  its  severe  Zeno,  its  graceful  Epi- 
curus, its  doubting  Pyrrho,  and,  last  of  all,  its  cynical 
Diogenes,   the  model  sloven   of   college,   as  sure  of 
never  wearing  a  clean  shirt  on  Sunday  or  a  holiday, 
as  of  snapping  at   every  pet   notion  or  idol  of  the 
hour'?     Can  we    not    recall    surprising    contrasts   of 
character,  to  be  found  within  a  few  steps  of  each 
other,  and  do  not  some  of  us  remember  two  class- 
mates who  could  easily  toss  an  apple  or  bandy  pleas- 
antry across  the  bit  of  green  sward  between  their 
rooms,  who  were  yet  as  far  from  each  other  in  tastes 
and  pursuits  as  the  poles  of  the  globe  ]     The  one 
was  a  combination    of   Kean    and  AVesley,  uniting 
great  dramatic  power  with  high   religious   enthusi- 
asm, believing  himself  sometimes  visited  by  harping 
angels,  holding  prayer-meetings  in  his  room,  and,  in 
spite  of  what  was  called   his  excessive  pietism,  com- 
manding the  respect  of  the  whole  class,  even  of  the 
fast  ones,  on  the  ground  that,  in  college  phrase  not 
yet  wholly  obsolete  with  us  graybeards,  he  was  a 
downright  "  good  fellow."     The  other  was  a  kind  of 
Grimaldi  Galvani,  a  marvellous  compound  of  fun  and 


28 

physics,  helping  the  digestion  of  the  whole  class 
by  his  comic  faces  and  songs,  and  instructing  us  all" 
by  his  attainments  and  experiments  in  natural  sci- 
ence, sometimes  combining  sport  and  instruction 
oddly  together,  as  when,  returning  from  sweet  Auburn 
rthen  our  favorite  college  ramble,  and  not  a  conse- 
crated cemetery)  in  triumph,  with  a  monstrous  bull- 
frog, the  patriarch  of  the  sylvan  pond,  he  invited  the 
whole  entry  to  see  the  application  of  galvanism  to 
the  creature's  muscles,  and  the  giant  croaker  breathed 
out  his  life  as  an  oflPering  to  science,  in  a  cry  that 
might  have  enabled  Aristophanes  to  add  another  and 
more  sonorous  stanza  to  his  famous  Hapayopij^'^ixa 
Barpdxojv*  or  concert  of  frogs. 

Not  only  the  study  of  individual  characters,  but  of 
their  cliques  and  combinations,  is  most  instructive, 
and  a  new  era  will  come  in  academic  education, 
when  the  springs  of  social  feeling  among  students 
are  better  understood,  and  due  means  are  used  to 
assimilate  the  heterogeneous  and  sometimes  conflict- 
ing elements  by  just  ideas  and  influences.  It  is  a 
bright  day  surely  that  sends  into  a  class  a  few  gener- 
ous, gifted,  high-minded,  and  brave  youths,  who  are 
more  determined  on  doing  right,  than  the  idlers  and 
profligates  are  on  doing  wrong ;  and,  in  spite  of  all 
obloquy  and  opposition,  they  are  sure  to  triumph  in 

*  President  Woolscy,  when  in  Athens,  went  to  the  ponds  near  by,  to 
learn  whether  the  Attic  frogs  still  kept  the  accent  of  their  song  in  the 
days  of  Aristophanes,  and  found  the  same  old  strain  :  — 

Aristoph.  Ranae,  209,  210. 


29 

the  end,  and  to  establish  that  blessed  consummation, 
a  sound  and  ascending  public  opinion  in  college, 
such  as  puts  good  scholarship  and  good  fellowship 
together,  and  brings  the  true  spirit  to  bear  upon  the 
true  object  of  study.  Whatever  science  or  accom- 
plishment is  pursued. in  this  temper  seems  to  grow 
with  a  kind  of  charmed  life,  although  not  prescribed 
in  the  regular  course  ;  and  those  of  us  who  remem- 
ber the  zeal  with  which  the  study  of  modern  lan- 
guages and  of  extempore  speaking  was  pursued,  will 
need  no  argument  upon  the  worth  and  power  of  free 
literary  companionship.  On  the  whole,  may  we  not 
safely  say,  that  not  only  college  pleasures,  such  as 
belong  especially  to  youth,  had  their  life  in  congenial 
fellowship,  but  all  earnest  purposes,  such  as  give 
good  promise  for  manhood,  if  they  did  not  tiiere 
originate,  found  therein  the  most  effectual  nurture  ] 
But  why  dwell  longer  on  this  theme "?  Look  to  these 
old  halls,  and  to  these  old  friends,  —  remember,  too, 
the  cherished  faces  no  more  with  us  in  the  world, — 
and  the  subject  speaks  for  itself,  as  we  breathe  once 
more  the  charmed  atmosphere  of  old  friendships, 
pleasures,  and  studies. 

But  what  is  our  manhood  saying  or  doing  in 
answer  to  the  fellowship  of  our  youth  1  Renouncing 
it  for  a  churli&h  selfishness  or  a  dogged  individual- 
ism ^  Surely  not,  unless  experience  of  the  world  is 
the  denial  of  the  best  interests  of  the  heart,  and  the 
knowledge  of  the  world  is  the  death  of  the  generous 
affections.  There  are  indeed  some  causes  that  tend 
to  isolate  and  harden  the  heart  when  w^e  quit  our 


30 

early  associates,  and  go  out  into  the  world  to  seek 
our  fortunes.  We  no  longer  find  ourselves  among 
companions  of  age  and  tastes  like  our  own,  and 
perhaps  the  genial  favorite  of  the  whole  class  finds 
himself  posted  in  a  rustic  village,  on  a  frontier  settle- 
ment, toiling  from  morning  to  night  for  bread.  Sep- 
aration and  occupation,  with  their  change  of  home 
and  hahit^  are  the  two  barriers  that  threaten  to  shut 
us  out  from  the  pleasant  companionship  of  our 
youth,  and  too  many  allow  themselves  to  be  shut  up 
within  them.  But  this  should  not  be  so.  Separa- 
tion, instead  of  bringing  indifference,  should  provoke 
fresh  loyalty  ;  and  occupation,  instead  of  bringing 
drudging:  monotonv,  should  move  a  man  to  cheer 
his  toil  by  genial  affections,  and  enlarge  his  narrow 
walk  with  all  generous  co-operation.  As  we  are  in 
danger  of  being  narrowed  in  our  range  of  sociality, 
we  should  deepen  our  springs  of  fellow-feeling,  and 
as  we  are  tempted  to  sink  down  into  the  plodding 
craftsman  of  a  special  business,  we  ought  to  make 
this  very  speciality  the  reason  for  integrating  our 
labor  by  a  broader  association  and  a  higher  fellow- 
ship than  ever,  if  not  indeed  with  the  same  old  com- 
panions, with  others  of  like  spirit  and  objects.  As 
we  go  on  our  own  way  and  do  our  own  work,  we  see 
more  clearly  how  much  incentive  and  instruction  we 
leave  behind  us,  and  feel  the  need  of  supplying  their 
place.  Our  separate  careers  or  professions,  whilst 
they  give  us  new  power  and  inffuence,  reveal  new 
limitations,  and  show  us,  what  we  begin  only  to 
learn  in  college,  that  our  gifts  are  but  partial,  and 


31 

we  all  need  each  other  to  make  ourselves  complete. 
Ought  we  not,  therefore,  as  we  advance  m  years,  not 
only  to  keep  alive  the  geniality  of  our  youth,  but  to 
deepen  it  by  a  new  sense  of  social  need  and  duty,  and 
so  add  the  friendship  of  co-operation  to  the  old  friend- 
ship  of  congenialiti/ ?      Ought   not    our   classmates 
themselves  to  be  more  valuable  to  us  now,  with  all 
their  varied  arts  and  experience,  and  we  more  valua- 
ble to  them,  than  when  we  ate  our  Commons  fare 
together,  or  when,  with  joined  hands,  stout  lungs, 
and  moist  eyes,  we  sang  "  Auld  Lang  Syne,"  as  we 
bade  adieu  to  these  old  halls  %    We  allow  indeed  that 
friendships  of  mere   sentiment  are  not  apt,  of  them- 
selves, to  continue,  and  the  fondest  associations  of 
youth  fall  away  unless  renewed  by  active  service ; 
classmates,  once  bosom  friends,  passing  each  other 
with  little  more  than  a  nod  or  a  word,  when  no 
longer  brought   together   by  kindred   principles   or 
pursuits.     Hence  the  more  need  of  keeping  alive  the 
old  fellowship  by  new  modes  of  co-operation,  and 
encouraging  community  of  feeling  by  community  of 
interests  and  duties.     As  the  working  habits  become 
fixed,  and  the  will,  freed  from  early  conflicts,  rises 
into  a  calm    and  steadfast  sense  of  duty,  under  the 
universal  will,  ought  not  our  memory  in  like  tran- 
quillity to  rise  into  the  higher  sense  of  companion- 
ship, under  the  universal  light,  and  ought  not  the 
best  years,  alike  the  most  kindly  and  the  most  fruit- 
ful, to  come  after  our  meridian  \     We  used  to  read 
together  in  college,  in  Pindar's  second  Olympic,  of 
the  painless  existence,  aSaKpw  alcova,  the  tearless  aon 

5 


32 

which  faithful  souls  earn  for  themselves  with  the 
gods  on  high,  by  toil  and  virtue. 

tiXXci  Trapa  fxiv  tijxiois 
Qfwv,  OLTives  exp-ipov  evopKias  nBaKpvv  vefiovrai 
aloiva.  Olynip.  II.  G5  -  G7. 

To  hope  for  such  a  blessed  consummation  in  this 
world  may  be  too  much ;  but  is  not  a  true  man 
nearer  it  at  fifty  than  at  twenty "?  Some  one  has  in- 
deed said  that  it  is  best  for  a  man  to  die  at  thirty-five, 
for  then  he  has  gone  through  all  pleasures,  and  has 
nothing  new  to  enjoy.  We  cannot  say  so ;  and  we 
firmly  believe  that  the  best  growth  of  the  human 
heart  comes  after  the  fortieth  year,  under  the  kindly 
nurture  of  home  affections  and  manly  fidelity.  Ought 
not  our  golden  age  to  come  to  us  in  the  autumn 
time  of  golden  fruit,  with  its  crowned  labors,  fixed 
habits,  and  loyal  memories  ?  And,  as  the  ripe  fruit 
on  the  tree  holds  within  its  ruddy  rind  the  fertile 
seed,  image  and  offspring  of  the  parent  seed,  thus 
filial  in  its  day  of  glory,  and  cherishing  the  spring- 
time in  the  harvest,  ought  not  our  OAvn  autumn  thus 
to  cherish  and  renew  the  spring-time  of  our  life? 
No  thoughtful  man  will  deny  that  there  is  some- 
thing in  faithful  work  and  mature  and  loyal  char- 
acter that  tends  to  renew  and  exalt  all  worthy  affec- 
tions and  make  the  heart  younger  evermore. 

In  all  that  we  are  saying,  we  are  taking  it  for 
granted  that  lasting  good-fellowship  must  rest  upon 
a  ruling  idea,  and  perpetuate  itself  in  some  worthy 
service,  or  that  in  other  words  it  must  be  real  in  its 
aim  and  in  its  object,  or,  perhaps  we  had  better  say, 


33 

in  its  guiding  truth  and  animating  spirit.  Man 
social,  like  man  individual,  lives  truly  when  he  has 
light  and  motive,  or  eyes  to  see  his  object  and  power 
to  lay  hold  of  it.  Seeing  and  seeking  make  up  his 
life.  Society  follows  the  same  laws,  and  the  great 
fellowships  that  have  ruled  the  world  and  still  rule  it 
follow  this  law,  and  upon  their  standard  state  a  prin- 
ciple and  urge  a  duty.  Every  powerful  association 
of  men  rests  upon  some  vital  idea  and  object,  some 
reality,  at  once  ideal  and  practical,  that  moves  the 
living  to  think  and  work  together,  and  perpetuates 
the  memory  of  the  dead.  Not  only  empires  and 
priesthoods,  but  universities  prove  this  position,  and 
old  Cambridge,  England,  and  this  new  Cambridge 
had  their  own  guiding  idea  or  germinal  principle; 
and  a  passing  glance  at  the  origin  of  these  two  influ- 
ential institutions  exemplifies  what  all  philosophy 
and  history  teach,  —  that  men  enjoy  most  and  achieve 
most  when  assimilated  by  a  master  idea  and  object, 
and  all  real  companionship  rests  upon  a  real  faith 
and  service.  In  some  respects,  what  we  call  the 
Realism  of  the  New  Cambridge  contrasts  and  com- 
pares emphatically  with  that  of  the  old  English 
University,  its  mother,  and  the  bequest  of  John 
Harvard,  in  1638,  resembles,  not  only  in  generosity 
but  in  faith,  the  bequest  of  Hugh  Balsham,  that 
founded  the  first  college  house  of  St.  Peters,  in  Old 
Cambridge,  England,  in  1257.  In  that  thirteenth 
century,  in  which  the  great  universities  of  England 
and  the  Continent  rose  from  mere  schools  of  private 
instruction,  the  old  Catholic  Realism  had  reached  its 


34 

climax ;  and,  amidst  its  highest  bloom,  sagacious 
eyes  might  discern  the  buds  of  the  new  culture  that 
were  to  outgrow  its  glory.  It  was  the  age  when  the 
Romish  doctrine  of  the  Real  Presence  in  the  priestly 
church  and  the  transubstantiated  wafer  was  taught 
by  its  great  masters,  asserted  by  its  great  heroes,  and 
embodied  in  its  great  structures  ;  the  age  that  pro- 
duced Thomas  Aquinas  and  his  Summa  Theologiae, 
and  St.  Louis,  peerless  soldier  of  the  cross ;  the  age 
which  canonized  St.  Francis  and  St.  Dominic  almost 
before  their  bodies  were  cold  in  their  graves,  and 
which  began  to  build  the  York  Minster  and  the 
Cologne  Cathedral ;  the  age  in  which  England,  with 
her  barons,  and  but  two  years  before  her  Magna 
Charta,  trembled  under  the  interdict  of  Rome,  and 
King  John  licked  the  dust  at  the  feet  of  Innocent 
III.  It  was  the  age  of  the  great  precursors  of  the 
modern  thought,  that  was  to  supplant  the  old  Realism 
by  the  new ;  the  age  of  Roger  Bacon,  the  father  of 
modern  science,  and  Dante  Alighieri,  the  father  of 
modern  literature.  Old  Cambridge  was  founded  by 
Hugh  Balsham,  afterwards  Bishop  of  Ely,  in  full  faith 
in  the  Catholic  Church,  whilst  she  was,  probably, 
without  the  knowledge  of  her  masters,  cherishing 
seeds  of  the  new  life ;  and  the  resolutions  of  honor 
to  the  founder,  shortly  after  his  death,  show  well  the 
grounds  of  fellowship  among  those  ascetic  scholars. 
The  University  in  full  assembly  decreed.  May  26, 1291, 
that  on  the  eve  of  Saints  Vitus  and  Modestus  there 
should  be  annually  a  solemn  congregation  of  all  the 
Regents,  to  pray  for  the  soul  of  the  Lord  Hugh. 


35 

Those  prayers  for  the  dead  on  saints'  days  came  from 
the  heart  of  the  Catholic  Church,  and  stand  in  broad 
contrast  with  the  new  times  and  the  new  University. 
AVe  may  be,  in  many  respects,  wiser  than  those 
devout  scholars  ;  but  we  cannot  claim  to  have  better 
feelings  than  they,  nor  can  we  help,  in  some  respects, 
contrasting  the  unity  of  spirit  and  object  in  those 
days  with  the  discords  of  our  time. 

Two  dates  very  near  each  other,  and  coming  more 
than  three  centuries  after  Hugh  Bal sham's  gift,  mark 
the  powers  that  ruled  the  birth  and  fortunes  of  this 
new  Cambridge.  In  1575,  Francis  Bacon,  a  lad  of 
fifteen,  after  two  years  of  residence,  left  Trinity  Col- 
lege, Cambridge,  in  disgust  with  the  state  of  learning, 
especially  of  scientific  studies,  to  seek  more  light  in 
foreign  parts ;  and,  nine  years  afterward,  in  1584,  Sir 
Walter  Mildmay,  an  English  Puritan,  founded  Eman- 
uel College  at  Cambridge,  telling  Queen  Elizabeth, 
who  rallied  him  upon  his  Puritanism,  that,  whilst 
he  would  countenance  nothing  contrary  to  her  estab- 
lished laws,  he  had  set  an  acorn,  "  and  when  it  be- 
comes an  oak,  God  alone  knows  what  will  be  the 
fruit  thereof"  Of  this  acorn,  John  Harvard  and  our 
Harvard  College  were  fruits,  —  the  fruits  of  English 
Puritanism,  on  soil  which  the  invention  of  Guten- 
berg, the  discovery  of  Columbus,  and  the  refor- 
mation of  Luther  and  Calvin,  had  done  so  much 
to  prepare.  Harvard  was  educated  at  Emanuel  Col- 
lege, and  had  no  less  noted  compeers  at  the  Univer- 
sity than  Jeremy  Taylor  and  John  Milton,  —  those 
paragons  of  their  time,  so  like  and  so  unlike,  the  one 


36 

the  dove  of  the  English  Church,  so  fond  of  nestling, 
with  his  golden  and  purple  plumage,  under  the 
shadow  of  the  sanctuary ;  the  other,  that  eagle  of 
song,  so  impatient  of  all  enclosures,  and  panting  for 
the  mountain  and  the  cloud.  In  his  library,  which 
he  bequeathed  to  Harvard  College,  besides  the  treas- 
ures from  the  Greek  and  Latin  classics,  and  the 
Christian  fathers.  Harvard  brought  two  authors,  who 
have  been,  perhaps,  more  than  any  others,  the  found- 
ers of  what  is  peculiar  in  the  thought  of  modern 
Christendom,  and  surely  of  our  New  England,  — 
John  Calvin,  the  chief  champion  of  the  new  divinity, 
and  Francis  Bacon,  the  chief  champion  of  the  new 
science,  —  the  one  the  apostle  of  the  new  theocracy, 
the  other  the  master  of  the  new  humanism.  These 
two  personages  represent  the  tendencies,  the  Puritan 
zeal,  and  the  worldly  thrift,  that  so  signally  combined 
to  distinguish  modern  from  mediaeval  England,  the 
Puritan  element  predominating  under  Cromwell,  the 
secular  element  under  William  and  Mary,  and  a  tol- 
erable compromise  being  brought  about  between  the 
two  by  the  prevailing  policy  of  the  English  Church, 
which  aims  to  be  at  once  sacred  and  secular,  and 
shrewdly  mediate  between  both  worlds.  The  history 
of  New  England,  and  especially  of  Harvard  College, 
turns  upon  the  struggle  between  the  two  tendencies 
thus  represented, —  the  theocratic  and  the  humanistic ; 
in  the  first  century  the  theocratic  element  prevailing, 
in  the  second  century  the  scales  oscillating  between 
the  two,  and  in  this  nineteenth  century  the  human- 
istic or  secular  tendencies  predominating,  until  now 


37 

the  institution  that  was  at  first,  and  for  many  years, 
but  a  school  for  educating  ministers,  is  pre-eminent 
for  its  physical  science,  classic  learning,  and  secular 
schools  and  accomplishments,  —  theology,  notwith- 
standing its  masterly  teachers,  holding  a  divided,  if 
not  a  secondary  place.  We  will  not  quarrel  with 
what  has  been  inevitable,  nor  sigh  for  the  days  when 
the  theocratic  word  of  Increase  Mather  and  his  son 
Cotton,  with  increasing  prerogative,  passed  for  law 
and  gospel.  We  no  more  Avish  to  bring  back  Presi- 
dent Increase  Mather,  the  first  Doctor  of  Divinity 
ever  made  here,  than  old  England  wishes  to  bring 
back  Humphrey  Necton,  the  Carmelite  friar,  who 
received,  in  1269,  the  first  doctorate  of  divinity  ever 
conferred  by  old  Cambridge.*  We  welcome  the  new 
science,  yet  ask  with  it  for  a  true  sense  of  the  ancient 
faith,  and  if  Bacon  has  triumphed  by  leading  us  to 
the  realities  of  nature,  and  if  the  best  modern  physics 
declares,  with  Agassiz,  in  his  masterly  essay  on  Clas- 
sification, that  there  is  a  spirit  in  nature,  and  genera 
and  species  are  real  creatures  of  God,  not  figments  of 
circumstance,  nor  guesses  of  man,  we  ought  to  be  in 
a  better  condition  for  discerning  the  higher  realities 
of  God,  and  Calvin's  austerity  should  not  hide  from 

*  Thomas  Fuller,  in  his  charming  History  of  Cambridge,  records  the 
Latin  lines  that  celebrated  Humphrey  Necton's  honors,  and  Leland.  thus 
translates  them :  — 

"  Above  the  skies,  let 's  Humphrey  Necton  praise, 
For  on  him  first,  Cambridge  conferred  the  bays." 

The  original  stands  thus:  — 

"  Laudibus  Humphredum  Necton  Astra  feremus, 
Qui  data  Grantanse  laurea  prima  scholae." 


38 

lis  the  great  truth,  more  important  and  central  in 
his  pages  than  any  of  his  harsh  dogmas,  that  the 
soul  of  man  may  and  should  enjoy  the  real  presence 
of  the  Spirit,  and  that  life  is  death  until  this  presence 
is  known.  To  vindicate  this  conviction,  and  main- 
tain the  spiritual  element  in  the  social  polity,  has 
been  the  aim  of  earnest  thinkers  among  our  alumni 
in  every  age ;  and,  in  some  respects,  the  new  school 
of  theologians,  since  Buckminster  and  Channing, 
have  taken  sides  with  the  Mathers  and  the  old 
theocratic  party,  so  far  as  arraigning  the  materialism 
of  the  age  is  concerned,  and  asserting  the  sovereignty 
of  God  over  man.  Our  Harvard  theologians,  what- 
ever their  creed  and  name,  and  all  creeds  and  all 
names  we  number  among  our  alumni,  should  think 
their  triumph  a  defeat,  if,  in  assailing  theocratic  pre- 
tensions, they  destroy  Christian  faith,  and,  in  their 
opposition  to  the  Pharisaism  that  cares  for  the  mint, 
anise,  and  cumin,  play  into  the  hands  of  the  Saddu- 
cism  that  cares  most  for  the  loaves  and  the  fishes,  and 
so  substitutes  the  insolence  of  worldly  prosperity  for 
the  insolence  of  sanctimonious  zeal.  The  true  religion 
must  interpose  between  the  theocrats  and  the  secu- 
larists, harmonize  the  missions  of  Calvin  and  Bacon, 
Edwards  and  Franklin,  Channing  and  Webster,  and 
place  spiritual  ideas  in  due  relations  with  the  facts  of 
nature  and  the  institutions  of  humanity,  by  methods 
as  winning  and  effective  in  action,  as  wise  and  ear- 
nest in  principle.  Our  Harvard  school  of  thought 
surely  needs  a  helper  to  this  end,  and  an  unsatisfac- 
tory secularism  that  provokes  an  equally  unsatisfactory 


39 


r 


adicalism  is  likely  to  rule  so  long  as  the  organizing 
forces  of  society  and  letters  are  left  to  worldly  inter- 
ests, and  theology  and  religion  are  given  over  mainly 
to  the  speculative  intellect,  their  noble  ideas  allowed 
indeed  to  range  at  will  through  the  air,  without 
being  fixed  upon  the  earth  in  solid  deeds  and  institu- 
tions. We  are  well  aware  that  this  state  of  things  is 
necessary,  but  only,  we  trust,  as  a  transitional  stage. 
The  old  Catholic  fellowship  could  not  continue ;  and 
the  spiritual  power,  quarrelling  with  science  and  hu- 
manity, justly  found  itself  excommunicated  by  them 
in  the  attempt  to  excommunicate  them.  The  quar- 
rel, however,  was  not  because  of  the  war  of  religion 
with  science  and  humanity,  but  because  of  the  usur- 
pations of  the  priesthood ;  and  a  better  age  must 
surely  heal  the  breach,  and  reconcile  the  spiritual 
and  temporal  ideas  and  powers. 

Even  good-fellowship  languishes  in  the  absence  of 
this  higher  Realism,  as  has  been  and  is  plainly  shown 
in  the  feuds  and  asperities  of  so  many  earnest  think- 
ers among  us  who  ought  to  be  brethren.  The  very 
animosities  of  our  radicals,  that  sometimes  have 
seemed  to  us  to  partake  more  of  the  curses  from  the 
Jacobin  Mountain  than  of  the  blessings  of  the  Gali- 
lean Mount,  have  at  heart  a  certain  depth  of  convic- 
tion and  a  nobleness  of  aim,  more,  we  trust,  like  the 
theocratic  harshness  of  the  old  Puritans,  than  the 
unbridled  hates  of  the  new  Terrorists.  Something 
is  surely  wrong,  however,  at  the  fountain-head,  if  not 
of  our  thinking,  surely  of  our  social  methods;  and 
we  may  be  certain  that  the  springs  of  genial  com- 

6 


40 

panionship  will  be  filled  anew  when  we  learn  to 
work  together  from  higher  convictions,  and  upon  a 
broader  platform.  The  principle  of  assimilation 
should  be  sought  from  above,  not  from  below  ;  and 
only  the  love  that  is  of  God  has  ever  had  power 
to  reconcile  characters  so  marked  as  those  that 
are  often  antagonists  among  us,  and  to  subdue  the 
harshness  of  a  strong  but  narrow  individualism  to  the 
catholicity  of  a  genuine  manhood.  The  poorest  of 
all  intolerance  is  that  which  is  impatient  of  diversi- 
ties of  character,  and  tries  to  make  enemies  of  gifted 
men,  who,  in  spite  of  their  radicalism  or  conserva- 
tism, ought  to  be  warm  friends,  and  combine  their 
various  qualities  like  the  colors  of  the  prism,  that 
blend  in  a  single  ray  of  white  and  blessed  light.  111 
fares  our  culture,  and  even  what  we  may  choose  to 
call  our  humanities,  without  a  positive  faith  and  or- 
ganic method,  and  we  shall  feel  a  higher  enthusiasm 
for  letters  as  we  accept  more  devoutly  the  reality  of 
religion,  as  it  speaks  to  us  in  its  ov*^n  authority  and 
blessedness  as  to  our  fathers.  Why  may  we  not, 
without  renouncing  any  of  our  new  light,  but  from 
larger  liberty  and  better  insight,  repeat  loyally  the 
old  watchword  on  our  College  seal,  "  Christo  et  Ec- 
clesiae ;  "  —  "  Christo,"  to  Christ,  in  whom  the  reality 
of  God's  Word  was  manifest  in  living  union  with 
man;  "  Ecclesiae,"  to  the  Church,  the  company  of 
faithful  souls,  in  whom  the  reality  of  God's  Spirit  is 
shown  in  living  fellowship  with  men. 

This  faith  has  made  what,  in  the  best  sense,  we  call 
humanity ;  and  through  its  progress  men  have  drawn 


41 

nearer  each  other  as  they  have  drawn  nearer  God. 
It  has  brought  new  geniality,  as  well  as  strength,  to 
the  homes  and  hearts  of  the  people,  and  given  schol- 
ars a  unity  unknown  in  the  old  Attic  and  Roman 
times.  Compare  the  exquisite  odes  of  Horace,  which 
this  charming  pet  of  courtiers  wrote  to  such  near 
friends  as  Mecsenas,  Postumus,  and  Torquatus,  with 
the  hymns  that  Ambrose,  a  braver  Roman  and  the 
master  of  kings,  composed  alike  for  prince  and  peas- 
ant, and  how  much  nobler  and  more  cheering  is  the 
strain  which  invokes  the  Eternal  Spirit  to  lift  us 
above  the  power  of  time  and  death,  that  threaten  all 
earthly  ties !  As  we  review  our  friendships  to-day, 
we  ask  not  to  sing,  with  Horace  to  Postumus,  — 

"Eheu  fugaces,  Postume,  Postume, 
Labuntur  anni  nee  pietas  moram 
Eugis  et  instanti  senectae 
Afferet  indomitaeque  mortl." 

Nor  to  mourn  with  him  as  he  writes  to  Torqua- 
tus,— 

"  ImmortaHa  ne  spares  monet  annus  et  almum 
Quae  rapit  hora  diem." 

Let  US  join,  rather,  in  the  morning  hymn  with 
which  Ambrose,  the  ruder  Latinist  indeed,  but  the 
greater  man,  hailed  the  dayspring,  as  it  broke  upon 
the  pagan  "darkness,  and  still  cheers  our  day  :  — 

"  Verusque  sol  illabere 
Micans  nitore  pei-peti 
Jubarque  sancti  spiritus 
Infunde  nostris  sensibus." 

If  such  thoughts  as  these,  which  bring  the  solemn 
names  of  Hugh  Balsham,  Catholic  Bishop  of  Ely,  and 


42 

John  Harvard,  Puritan  minister  of  Charlestown,  to- 
gether, and  urge  the  sacred  mission  of  our  Univer- 
sity as  a  school  of  morals  and  religion,  as  well  as 
science  and  letters,  may  seem  too  grave  for  this  festive 
occasion,  let  us  remember  that  nothing  unites  men 
together  so  much  as  the  recognition  and  service  of  a 
sacred  cause,  and  they  who  are  the  bravest  comrades 
in  arms  are  ever  the  most  jovial  companions  at  table. 
What  can  be  more  cheering  and  harmonizing  to  us 
as  graduates,  than  a  due  sense  of  the  plain  fact  of  his- 
tory, that  this  institution  is  the  child  of  God's  provi- 
dence, and  the  ages  have  been  combining  to  enlarge 
its  heritage  and  to  urge  its  duty.  The  old  Catholicism, 
with  its  external  universality,  and  the  old  Puritanism, 
with  its  internal  throne,  have  bequeathed  to  us  their 
treasures  by  right  of  our  lineage,  and  we  are  false  to 
our  birthright  if  we  in  any  way,  either  by  a  narrow 
pietism,  or  a  lax  and  insolent  materialism,  forsake  the 
comprehensiveness  and  the  purity  which  they  sought 
in  their  way.  Accept  the  high  commission,  and  if 
sometimes,  as  we  note  the  marvellous  progress  of 
the  new  arts  and  sciences,  and  see  physics  and  polit- 
ical economy  so  enlarging  their  domains  and  com- 
bining their  forces,  and  almost  threatening  to  build 
up  a  papacy  of  naturalism  with  a  god  of  bread,  and  a 
priesthood  of  pence,  and  a  ritual  of  luxury,  we  are 
impatient  for  the  rise  of  a  devout,  enlightened,  and 
constructive  mind,  who  shall  do  for  the  new  learning 
what  the  ancient  faith  did  for  the  old,  and  so  build 
up  the  new  City  of  God,  we  may  take  comfort  in 
remembering   the   gradual    progress    of  the   former 


43 

civilization,  and  perhaps  believe  that  the  task  of 
construction  lingers,  not  because  the  harmonizing 
spirit  is  wanting,  but  because  the  materials  are  still 
gathering  for  the  edifice,  and  the  great  structure 
must  not  be  built  till  the  stones  are  ready  and  the 
plans  matured.  Here  to-day,  however,  we  can  have 
a  cheering  glimpse  of  its  proportions,  and  refresh 
our  fellowship  by  a  prospect  of  its  fitness  and  grand- 
eur. Here  to-day  we  base  our  fellowship  upon  the 
true  Harvard  Catholicity,  —  larger  than  Roman  rit- 
ualism and  Genevan  legalism,  —  the  Catholicity  that 
accepts  all  truth  as  God's,  and  claims  it  for  his  ser- 
vice. To-day  we  do  not  dash,  but  quicken  our  joy 
by  owning  together  the  highest  principles,  and,  as  we 
walk  through  these  groves  and  look  upon  these  halls 
and  spires,  we  readily  bring  our  treasures  of  science 
and  letters  before  the  mercy-seat,  and  cheer  and 
exalt  our  fellowship  by  the  solid  Realism  that  com- 
bines science,  humanity,  and  religion  under  the  same 
Word  and  Spirit,  and  calls  us  to  mastery  over  na- 
ture, fraternity  with  men,  and  dependence  upon  God. 
So  we  sit  down  in  the  sanctuary  together,  and  chant 
our  "  Sancte,  Sancte,  Sancte,"  as  we  read  in  those 
three  parts  of  the  great  temple  the  diverse,  yet 
according  books  of  nature,  man,  and  God,  —  three 
books,  but  one  truth,  as  in  the  "  Veritas  "  of  our  first 
College  seal.  Put  the  two  seals,  "  Christo  et  Ec- 
clesiae"  and  "Veritas,"  on  different  sides  of  the  same 
banner,  and  Harvard  has  a  standard  worthy  of  her 
history  and  her  destiny.  This  is  surely  better  than 
the   military    flag,   under   which   we   once   marched 


44 


through  the  streets  of  Cambridge,  with  "  Marti  et 
Mercurio "  on  the  silken  folds.  The  inscription 
'•  Christo  et  Ecclesiae "  better  than  any  other  may 
declare  the  spirit  of  our  fellowship,  and  the  word 
"  Veritas,"  covering  three  books,  best  expresses  the 
largeness  of  our  objects ;  for  to  us  they  mean  the 
books  of  Nature,  Humanity,  and  Divinity.  What 
God  hath  joined  together,  let  not  man  put  asunder. 

This  high  allegiance  to  the  mission  of  the  Univer- 
sity gives  us  new  interest  in  its  history  and  pros- 
pects, reviving,  with  practical  aims,  the  memory  of 
the  lives  and  services  of  our  brother  Alumni,  whose 
work  we  are  bound  to  continue.  They  have  labored, 
and  we  have  entered  into  their  labors.  We  are  all 
beneficiaries,  and,  whether  rich  or  poor,  we  have 
never  paid  back  the  good  that  we  have  received. 
Nothing  can  better  stimulate  us  and  our  sons,  in 
these  days  of  large  privilege  and  ready  luxury,  than 
a  living  sense  of  the  zeal  and  sacrifice  given  to  this 
institution  by  its  great  benefactors,  and  of  the  need 
of  seeking,  in  a  higher  sense  of  responsibility,  the 
tonic  energy  which  they  found  in  hardship  and  con- 
flict and  poverty.  Let  the  great  company  of  our 
brethren  pass  before  us  in  solemn  procession,  nor 
let  us  refuse  to  be  as  hospitable  in  heart  as  our  Tri- 
ennial Catalogue  is  hospitable  in  word,  and  let  us 
number  the  dead  and  the  living  together  here.  A 
very  simple  statement  of  fact  helps  us  to  marshal 
the  whole  body  of  the  Alumni  together  in  one  com- 
pany under  three  divisions.  The  lives  of  three  men 
exhaust  the  history  of  Harvard  University,  and  em- 


45 

brace  the  seven  and  a  half  generations,  from  1636  to 
1860,  a  period  of  two  hundred  and  twenty-four  years. 
Three  lives,  hearing  date  thus :  William  Hubbard, 
of  the  class  of  16-12  (the  first  of  the  graduated 
classes),  was  born  in  1621,  and  died  in  1704,  aged 
eighty-three ;  Nathaniel  Appleton,  of  the  class  of 
1712,  was  born  in  1693,  and  died  in  1784,  aged 
ninety-one;,  and  Josiah  Quincy,  of  the  class  of  1790, 
was  born  in  1772,  and.  Heaven  be  praised,  he  is  with 
us  here  to  day  in  his  eighty-ninth  year.  These  three 
lives,  like  three  links  of  a  chain,  interlock  with  each 
other,  and  the  middle  link  is  all  that  is  wanting  to 
connect  us  with  the  contemporaries  of  Harvard. 
Josiah  Quincy,  when  a  boy  of  twelve,  could  have 
known  Nathaniel  Appleton,  and  Nathaniel  Appleton, 
when  a  boy  of  thirteen,  could  have  known  William 
Hubbard,  and  William  Hubbard  was  contemporary 
with  our  founder,  being  seventeen  years  old  when 
Harvard  died.  Speak  these  three  names  together 
now,  and  let  the  centuries  of  graduates  march  behind 
them  as  behind  centurions.  William  Hubbard ! 
advance  the  seventeenth  century,  with  its  Puritan 
strictness  and  heroism.  Nathaniel  Appleton !  for- 
ward the  eighteenth  century,  with  its  bolder  think- 
ing and  larger  empire.  Josiah  Quincy  !  here  we  are, 
and  his  venerable  name  leads  this,  our  nineteenth 
century  of  graduates,  with  its  broader  knowledge 
and  finer  culture.  God  grant  that  they  who  follow 
may  be  worthy  of  such  leaders.  If  we  follow  our 
academic  fathers  worthily,  shall  we  not  find  our  fra- 
ternal interest  in  each  other  increasing  as  our  zeal 


46 

for  sound  letters  increases,  and  may  not  this  associa- 
tion of  Alumni,  instead  of  being  merely  a  social,  be 
also  a  working  body,  as  is  the  case  with  the  graduates 
of  Oxford  and  Cambridge,  who  have  a  voice  in  the 
University  Senate,  and  an  influence  upon  the  whole 
arrangement  of  the  institution'?  It  is  very  obvious, 
that,  instead  of  being  turned  adrift,  to  forget  our 
Alma  Mater  and  be  forgotten  by  her,  her  sons  should 
be  more  valuable  to  her  after  their  graduation,  and  the 
funds  of  the  institution,  and  the  state  of  opinion 
among  undergraduates,  would  be  vastly  helped  by 
the  rise  of  a  new  and  more  active  fellowship  of  the 
Alumni.  Better  sense  of  our  common  heritnge,  too, 
vi^ill  rise  with  better  conviction  of  our  own  duty,  and 
we  must  enjoy  more  as  we  do  more  together,  or 
be  more  genial  companions  in  wit,  as  we  are  more 
loyal  comrades  in  service. 

The  work  done  by  our  brethren  during  these  cen- 
turies might  well  make  us  proud,  were  it  not  that  it 
so  urges  fidelity  and  rebukes  our  sluggishness.  The 
mind  of  our  Harvard  has  never  ceased  to  wield  a 
leading  influence  on  our  American  letters,  and  with- 
out enumerating ,  its  achievements  in  the  learned 
professions,  and  in  the  arts  and  sciences  connected 
with  them,  without  dwelling  upon  the  names  of 
those  of  our  brethren  who  have  occupied  places  of 
power  in  state  and  nation,  court,  school,  and  church, 
judges,  governors,  presidents,  legislators,  ambassa- 
dors, ministers,  masters  in  every  worthy  science  and 
art,  it  is  enough  to  name  a  single  branch  of  liberal 
culture  in  which  our  brethren  have  led,  and  perhaps 


47 

still  lead,  the  literature  of  the  nation.  I  mean  the 
use  of  the  English  tongue  in  its  purity,  beauty,  and 
force.  Our  University  has  been  the  mother  of  our 
American  prose,  and  in  this  she  has  been  queen  of 
the  art  most  useful  and  most  beautiful.  It  is  said 
by  that  original  and  perhaps  somewhat  enthusiastic 
thinker,  Lasaulx,  of  Munich,  in  a  volume  just  from 
the  press,  that  among  all  the  beautiful  arts,  whether 
the  plastic  arts  of  architecture,  sculpture,  and  paint- 
ing, or  the  vocal  arts  of  music,  poetry,  and  eloquence, 
the  last  stands  first  in  honor  and  in  importance,  and 
"  the  world  of  free  prose  speech  is  as  large  as  the 
world  of  human  thought  itself"  Now  surely  the 
masters  of  American  prose  have  come  from  these 
halls  of  study,  and  for  nearly  a  century  from  its  ori- 
gin Harvard  College  embodied  all  the  literature  of 
the  land,  whilst,  perhaps,  in  this  nineteenth  century 
of  enlarged  culture,  she  has  given  to  the  nation, 
from  her  own  graduates,  a  large,  if  not  the  largest, 
number  of  the  principal  classic  prose-writers,  and 
welcomed  to  her  honors  the  chief  authors  from  other 
schools.  Her  sons  have  created  the  rich  school  of 
American  History ;  and  if  we  to-day  throw  a  fresh 
chaplet  on  Prescott's  recent  grave,  and  name  with 
him  some  ten  or  twelve  of  our  graduates,  from  the 
days  of  Hubbard,  Belknap,  and  Holmes  to  those  of 
Sparks,  Bancroft,  Palfrey,  and  Motley,  we  have,  with 
few  exceptions,  —  Washington  Irving  chief  of  these, 
— exhausted  the  list  of  leading  American  historians. 
Honor  to  these  our  brethren,  not  only  for  the  learn- 
ing and  eloquence,  but  for  the  large  and  hopeful  hu- 

7 


48 

manity,  which  they  have  expressed  in  diction  from 
this  old  well  of  English  pure  and  undefiled.  Honor 
to  them  and  all  others,  whether  in  prose  or  verse, 
W'ho  share  their  fame  and  their  inspiration.  The 
water  from  this  sparkling  fountain,  whenever,  from 
any  book  or  speech,  it  touches  our  lips,  should  re- 
fresh our  old  fellowship,  and  quicken  braver  pur- 
poses, as  well  as  more  genial  affections.  Let  our 
new  Alumni  Hall  be  built  as  if  over  this  perennial 
well,  and  when,  from  year  to  year,  we  meet  together, 
let  the  speech  of  our  brethren,  like  a  sparkling  cup, 
pledge  us  anew  to  each  other,  to  our  founders,  and 
to  all  friends  of  man  and  God.  Call  the  spring  our 
Castalia ;  nay,  call  it  our  Siloa,  and  thank  God  that 
here,  as,  in  the  Providential  course  of  ages,  the  Greek 
and  Roman  culture  have  bowed  to  the  Christian 
faith,  and  the  words  of  classic  beauty  have  caught 
the  spirit  of  the  Word  of  Eternal  Truth. 

In  this  temper  we  survey  our  past  and  cheer  on 
our  future,  devoutly  acknowledging  the  line  of  Provi- 
dential agencies  that  has  led  us  from  small  begin- 
nings to  this  day  of  unequalled  prosperity  and  hope. 
Cuvier  tells  us,  in  his  Eloge  on  the  naturalist  Adan- 
son,  that  this  great  explorer  of  nature,  who  was  once 
so  poor  as  to  have  no  shoes  to  attend  the  Erench 
Institute  after  his  election,  asked,  in  his  will,  that 
a  wreath  might  be  laid  upon  his  coffin,  composed 
from  the  fifty-eight  families  of  plants  established  in 
botany  by  him.  We  do  not  read  of  any  flowers 
being  put  upon  Harvard's  coffin,  when,  in  Septem- 
ber, 1688,  the  stern  Puritans  laid  the  wasted  scholar 


49 

in  his  early  grave.  But  the  grateful  centuries  have 
paid,  and  are  paying,  a  kindlier  trihute ;  and  the  fair 
flower  and  rich  fruit  of  more  than  two  hundred 
harvests  of  manly  culture,  more  than  two  hundred 
families  of  plants,  have  made  his  name  fragrant 
throughout  the  world,  and  his  little  vineyard  has 
been  a  broad  and  fruitful  garden  of  God.  In  the 
beautiful  language  of  Oilman,  whose  loyal  and  ven- 
erable head  we  do  not  see  here  now,  as  three  years 
ago,  we  may  point  to  the  humble  Colony  school  that 
rose  on  these  grounds,  as  the  first  growth  of  Har- 
vard's goodly  seed,  and  rejoice  in  the  magnificent 
increase  with  every  succeeding  year :  — 

"  O  Relic  and  Type  of  our  Ancestors'  worth, 
That  hast  long  kept  their  memory  warm  ! 
First  flower  of  their  wilderness  !  Star  of  their  night  ! 
Calm  rising  through  change  and  through  storm  ! " 

Grateful  to  Harvard  and  the  noble  line  of  our 
benefactors,  we  thus  meditate  upon  the  graduate's 
return,  and  try  to  speak  in  words  the  blessing  that 
we  have  received  in  deeds.  In  this  spirit,  at  once 
serious  and  cheerful,  we,  the  Alumni  of  Harvard, 
join  for  the  first  time  in  the  inauguration  of  our 
President.  It  is  easy  to  salute  you,  our  brother,  as 
head  of  the  University  to-day,  for  you  are  identified 
with  all  our  best  academic  associations.  You  guided 
our  first  studies,  and  every  line  of  old  Homer  speaks 
to  us  ,your  name,  and  your  frequent  mercy  as  well 
as  constant  judgment.  From  year  to  year,  your 
kindly  face  has  renewed  the  welcome,  and  we  feel 
that  you  are  one  of  us,  and  your  honor  is  ours.    You 


50 

may  depend  upon  our  fidelity  in  whatever  concerns 
the  welfare  of  the  University,  and  the  sacredness  of 
its  charter  and  laws.  A  single  word  from  you  will 
bring  us  all  to  your  side,  even  if  we  travel  on  foot 
over  the  roads,  and  ford  or  swim  the  rivers  on  our 
way.  We,  your  brethren,  greet  you,  our  President, 
and  commend  you  to  God's  blessing.  As  we  do  so, 
we  recall,  with  filial  reverence,  the  illustrious  line  of 
scholars  who  have  occupied  the  chair  before  you, 
from  Dunster's  day  to  this.  We  rise  up  to  name 
with  honor  those  of  that  line  who  are  with  us  still : 
James  Walker,  Jared  Sparks,  Edward  Everett,  Jo- 
siah  Quincy,  —  in  themselves  a  host,  their  simple 
names  to  us  sufficient  titles  both  of  honor  and  affec- 
tion. In  such  presence  we  are  one  fellowship  to- 
day, and,  with  Dunster's  tomb  here  at  our  side,  and 
with  Harvard's  monument  almost  in  sight,  we  may 
join  hand  in  hand,  with  one  voice  lifting  to  the 
mercy-seat  the  Non  nobis,  Domine,  of  our  fathers,  — 
not  unto  us,  not  unto  us,  but  unto  God,  give  the 
glory. 


tyitiljVJ 


